


Life is Real (So Real)

by Mister_Fahrenheit



Series: Songs for Rockerboys [1]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Again, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, CDPR squandered Kerry's potential, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Beta, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags May Change, Trans V, We don't know her, canon endings?, we'll fix that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mister_Fahrenheit/pseuds/Mister_Fahrenheit
Summary: At 85 years old, Kerry Eurodyne is no stranger to screw ups. He’s had so many throughout his life – made selfish, horrible, near-unforgiveable decisions. But leaving V? Yeah, that probably comes in at the very top. He’d give anything to make things right. He just needs a chance, and as it turns out, he’s gonna get it. The only thing standing in his way is V’s diminishing health and penchant for martyrdom, the entirety of Arasaka, countless past mistakes, and a whole bunch of other bad guys with guns. No pressure or anything.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & Kerry Eurodyne, Kerry Eurodyne/Male V, Male V/Johnny Silverhand
Series: Songs for Rockerboys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100915
Comments: 18
Kudos: 139





	1. Tangled State of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I love Cyberpunk. Okay? I love the overarching story and love the characters like they're my own. But those endings? The missed opportunities? Kerry's tragically short and inconsequential romance? The inability for us to declare our love for Johnny? That's a big nope from me, so I decided to fix it. A big mishmash of in-game stuff, the different endings, and what I wish went down, it's heavily canon-informed but still divergent. If you're into that, enjoy! It's gonna be a long ride, so buckle up.
> 
> Also, inspired by Queen's song "Life is Real (Song for Lennon)."

Kerry’s life could be neatly separated into three distinct eras: BV, DV, and AV – before V, during V, and after V. Right now, he’s firmly into the horrible “after” era, and it still hurts more than he’d ever admit to himself.

He’d never seen it comin’, either. Before the mercenary with extraordinarily bad luck waltzed his way into his home and heart, Kerry had been fairly contented with his lot in life. He was rich – no, not just rich – filthy stinking rich. He had enough eddies to last him several unnaturally long lifetimes and enough connections to ensure he’d never go without the 3 D’s (dick, drugs, and drinks) for very long. He even had talent, not that it occurred to him until after making peace with Johnny’s overhanging influence. 

It was all superficial, sure. But what wasn’t in Night City? And as far as he was concerned, having even an ounce of it all made his life better than ninety percent of everyone else’s. He wasn’t about to complain. He was comfortable, and in a city overrun by poverty, hunger, and gunshots at all hours of the day, that was as good as it got.

At least, that’s what he thought until V. He turned it all around, made Kerry question everything without ever so much as uttering a word against it. Then again, he didn’t really have to. Just so much as being in V’s orbit was enough to make anyone question the choices they made, their hopes, their ambitions. Their fears.

The man was impossible, in every sense of the word. Nothing about him, nothing that happened should have been real. It was more the plot of some overblown sci-fi drama than real life. But there was nothing fiction about it, about him.

Arasaka, the chip, the ticking time bomb that was his mind were all real. Kerry knew as soon as he met V, or V through Johnny, for the first time. As soon as he saw that familiar smirk, heard those aggressive chords intently drug out of the guitar, he knew it was Johnny. He knew that whatever was happening was no joke. There’d be no punchline. And true to form, there never was.

All of it was real. V – a no-name merc looking for a legacy – managed to steal top-secret immortality tech from Arasaka. Nipped it right out from under the biggest, most secure corp in the world apparently with nothing more than a robot, a netrunner, and his best friend at his side, and then lost it all just as quickly. And what did he get to make up for it all? A chip slowly destroying his mind and Johnny fucking Silverhand as a headmate. Tragic, almost laughably so if it wasn’t so goddamn sad.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Kerry knew that the young merc had some seriously crazy jobs under his belt, too. He knew next to nothing about them. Just small bits here and there, little details he’d heard around town or saw on the news. Although, it was more than enough to clue him into some of the amazing feats V had accomplished all the while still somehow making the time for Kerry, for Johnny, for all the friends who loved him. It didn’t matter to him that he was quickly dying, each day becoming more fragile and fleeting than the last.

He still did completely stupid shit, ran missions that should’ve never worked out, and helped tie up near-meaningless loose ends just because people asked. He became the closest person in Johnny’s life, helped settle the last chapter in his life. He then made sure Kerry could turn the page in his, brought people back together and soothed old wounds that had never properly healed. As Kerry always said – impossible. But that never stopped V.

And he fell in love with him for it. Completely head over damn heels in a way Kerry’d never thought possible. They hadn’t known each other long. There was just a few months of dating max, but it was just as intense as V’s life. Even more so when the man sat Kerry down and admitted that his clock was ticking down fast.

Despite the ever-present danger that followed V and Kerry’s rockstar way of life, they created something together. They bought a house, moved in together, adopted a cat. They ate dinner together whenever V was home and talked idly about friends and listened to music on the sofa. V started to learn how to play the guitar and Kerry got a crash course in painting. In the evening, they would skinny dip in the pool and Kerry would fuck V until the man was finally exhausted enough to sleep.

It was all very domestic, but it was good. It felt nice, felt right. Like it was something he should’ve been doing all along. Of course, it couldn’t stay that way, though. There had been an expiration on it from the start. Kerry just hadn’t wanted to think about it. Couldn’t bring himself to think about the fact that the man he’d fallen in love was – god, the words still get stuck in his throat. Dying.

He could only avoid it so long. Eventually, V forced his hand, calling him _that_ night. He knew something was up, could tell from the way his voice sounded a little funny. Got this horrible sinking feeling in his gut, but still forced himself to casually end the conversation rather than push it. Then he saw it on tv in big, fucking capital letters on the next nightly news: ARASAKA UNDER ATTACK, and instantly knew. Knew that he was either going to die then or in the near future. V would’ve never done it with so little ceremony if he’d had any other option.

V came back, had given himself a little more time somehow. But it wasn’t enough. Six more months and he’d still be gone with no cure. Kerry couldn’t handle that, couldn’t handle going on the road to help him find it, either. All he could focus on was the what-if. _What if it’s not enough? What if we run out of time? What if I have to come back without him?_ It ate him up, but he just couldn’t face it.

So, he hopped in a Delamain cab and made the long trek out to the Badlands. In the middle of an apocalyptic, dusty wasteland with the sounds of busy nomad hands working in the background, he ended it. There was yelling, frustration, and disbelief. Ultimately, though, it was mostly just disappointed understanding, a sad resignation that nothing V said could possibly change things. Kerry couldn’t stand to be the source of it, but he thought it was better than the alternative.

Time really tested that, though, as the days, weeks, and eventually months passed by. Kerry worried about him. Goddamn, he was a wreck. Constantly. The first two months after the breakup, he self-medicated with vodka and whisky about every damn night, terrified that the six-month estimate was being too generous. The thought of getting the call sober – no. The thought haunted him, half-convinced it was inevitable. Would be just his luck, V’s luck.

He could see it so clearly. He’d see Panam’s name come up on his holo and the tears would already prick the edge of his eyes. He’d answer and he’d hear this shaky breath, desperately trying to stay in control. _He’s… gone, Kerry. He didn’t make it. V’s finally gone,_ she’d say. And he’d put his head in his hands and sob until he couldn’t breath. And when the tears finally stalled for a bit, Kerry would thank her for telling him and go on a weeklong bender, refusing to see any of the light with Night City’s brightest star now snuffed out too soon.

But the call didn’t come. He calmed down for a bit, then. Managed to make it back into the studio a few days a week. Only chose one type of alcohol per night to send him into temporary oblivion. Finally forced himself to put on actual clothes. There’d even be a couple nights – just here and there – where he enjoyed himself. Go out dancing or hang with the Us Cracks gals and find himself _not_ slightly compelled to jump off a building. It was good.

But his nervousness, his constant worry about V’s mortality was always resting on the edges, ready to come rushing back all at once. He was so scared as the months ticked by, his tenuous control slipping as the cursed date approached then flitted away, still no call coming through.

He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or terrified. Surely, if something had happened, Panam would call, right? V said she was like a sister to him, and she’d promised Kerry (albeit angrily) that she’d be in touch if there was any news. She wouldn’t go back on that. At minimum, somebody in the camp would surely get a message to him. Right?

Maybe he was being stupid. Maybe V was somehow okay, the situation wasn’t as dire as he’d been led to believe. Maybe he was fine now, just enjoying the freedom of the road and dust in his hair. Maybe he just didn’t want anything to do with Kerry now. The man couldn’t exactly blame him for that. Some days he didn’t want to be around himself, either.

Constant questions and anxieties swirled around his brain on a daily basis, all the louder with each month that passed. No news, no answers – that is, until about a year down the line.

***

“Okay, okay. Stop! Hold on.” Kerry waved his hand at the drummer and gestured for the audio engineer to cut the track. A migraine was right around the corner, irritation prickling at the edges making it worse. He idly rubbed his head and grimaced.

“What? What is it this time, Kerry?” The bulkier man growled.

“The same thing ‘s been the last ten times I’ve stopped you, Jax. It’s too fast. You’re ahead a beat.”

He scoffed and clacked his sticks together roughly. “Like hell I am. I’m right on time, Ker. Your vocals are the problem, here.”

“What?” He barked.

“Oh boy, here we go again.”

“April, come on. Let’s let them hash it out.” The keyboardist tilted their head towards the door.

“Yeah, alright. Won’t hear me complain. I’ve been needing a smoke for the last hour, anyways.” She jumped off her perch, hands palming through her pockets. “Hey, Ker. I’m all out, so I’m borrowing your smokes, ‘kay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure. Whatever. Got a pack in my jacket there.” He directed distractedly.

“Oh, okay. So, April can go through your things and use whatever she wants, but the second I do –“

“For Christ’s sake, Jax. It was my guitar. My _favorite_ guitar and you completely destroyed it!”

“You said I could learn on it,” the other man sniffed.

“Yeah, learn on it, not maul it. You fucking gonk. The fretboard had chunks missing from it. _Chunks_! How the fuck do you even –“

“Umm, Kerry. Hate to interrupt and everything, but Marc says someone’s trying to reach you on your holo.” April ducked her head back in the room, cigarette lightly tucked in her mouth.

“Fuck it. They can leave a voicemail or message with Marc. Everyone knows I don’t take anything during studio time.”

“You might want to take it this time. He says it seemed important. Someone by the name of… Tandem?” She squinted, head cocking to the side in contemplation. “Or was it Mannon?”

All the fight left Kerry at that, his previously boiling blood turning to ice. “You mean Panam?”

“Yup. That’s it.”

He immediately sprinted out of the studio, his rolling chair hitting the mixing desk with a heavy thud. Bile was already rising hot in his throat as he took the stairs two at a time, heading for the rooftop. He wouldn’t be disturbed up there.

 _Okay. Deep breaths, Ker. Deep breaths. You can do this._ The internal pep talk did nothing to boost his confidence, but he couldn’t put this off. He redialed for the previous call, breath catching as it was picked up.

“Panam?” He swallowed the lump that took the place of his voice and grasped the rooftop railing until his knuckles were white. “Is he…?”

Panam’s face was serious, mouth set in a firm line. Not a good start. “No. V’s alive.”

“Then… what? I don’t… I don’t understand.”

She rubbed her face and sighed, gave him an unreadable look. “Just – you just… Look. We’re back in Night City.”

“Wait. You’re back? I thought you were supposed to –“

“Yeah, well, it’s a long story. And I don’t feel like telling it right now. It’s not important anyways.”

“Not important? Seems pretty fucking important. You should be in Tuscon right now trying to save his life. Instead, you’re there just kicking back, pow-wowing around the fucking campfire like a bunch of –” Panam cut him off again, eyes narrow and out looking for blood.

“If there was anything in Tuscon, don’t you think we’d be there right now instead of this toxic trap of a city? Trust me. If we had other options, I’d never bring V back to this soulless wasteland. Oh, and while we’re at it, you can get rid of that tone of voice.”

Kerry shifted his weight, glaring daggers at the nomad on his holo. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You don’t have any right to judge what we’re doing or where we go. In fact, you should consider yourself lucky you’re in the loop at all after what you did to V.”

“Don’t.”

Panam tilted her chin up in challenge. “We’re the ones who’ve stuck by his side. We’ve been wandering around the country for months now. Almost a year, trying to find anything that’ll help him. We’ve stuck our necks out. Lost people. And you want to know why, Kerry? Because we love him. We’d do anything for him and _are_. What have you been doing for him? Last time I checked, the only thing you’ve done is abandon him when he was already down. When he needed you the most.”

“Don’t you dare,” he spit out. “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t pretend to know me or understand what I did. I’m not perfect, but I did the best I could at the time. I didn’t just abandon him.”

The woman on the other end suddenly looked so tired, her body sagging and a hand lightly rubbing at her eyes. “Yes, Kerry. Yes, you did. Whatever. Take accountability or not. I don’t care. Just… if you care about V at all, get over here.”

Anger still strummed through the musician’s veins, but nausea and fear started to soak back into him.

“Why? Is he okay?”

“No. He’s not. He’s getting sicker again. He doesn’t have much time. A few weeks. Tops. Maybe not even that.”

Kerry swore, looking towards the skyline in front of him. He inhaled shakily, shut his eyes tight to stop what threatened to spill over. “Where are you?”

“Same camp as before. Sending the coordinates now.”

“I’ll be there.” The call disconnected and Kerry leaned his head against the railing. It was a lot. He knew he should feel relief, should be happy. This wasn’t _the_ call. V was still relatively safe. Alive. And he was there, just minutes away from him. There was still time. Then why did he feel like his chest was caving in?

Now wasn’t the time for being in his head, though. There was something much more important to do. 

“Just hold in there, kid. I’m on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some writers live on coffee. I happen to live on affirmations, so any kudos or comments are thoroughly appreciated!


	2. Shadows from My Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping. If there are glaring errors, I totally blame it on that and not my aversion to any thorough editing. Yup -- it's the sleep deprivation.
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who has been so supportive. Your kind words, kudos, and bookmarks have been awesome. Y'all rock and I hope you continue to enjoy this as we get further into it, even when it rips out your heart and stomps on it. Which, by the way, might be the entire theme of this chapter. Just a heads up. I promise, things actually do get better at some point. It's just a matter of reaching rock bottom first. And yeah, I blame the melodrama and angst on lack of sleep, too. That's my prerogative. 
> 
> Anyways, big thanks once again and on with the show.

Kerry isn’t really sure what he expected upon reaching the Aldecaldos’ camp. Definitely not a warm welcome, but he’s still somewhat surprised by just how… icy, frigid the reception really is. He’s used to stares. Hell, that just comes with the territory of being famous. But this was different – protective, angry, concerned – and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“So, looks like you finally showed.”

Kerry swings his head around to find Panam leaning against one of the camp structures so casually that it’s gotta be posed. Her arms are crossed, shoulders loose in an air of relaxation, but her face, the gun carefully on display at her hip say something different. Kerry’s been around the block enough to know exactly what it means. It’s a show of intimidation, a warning to mind his P’s and Q’s.

As much as he hates it, a slight shiver goes through him. Fuck him, he _is_ a little intimidated. Would be a gonk not to be. V talked little about his friends and connections, or maybe Kerry just didn’t ask after them much. But he knew probably the most about Panam, knew she was right on V’s level, that she was incredibly protective of her family. And with V part of that family, he’d have to be very careful.

He schooled his features into something more level, but respectful. “Of course, said I would, right?”

“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Night City, it’s that what people say and what people do are often two different things.”

“True, but not all of us are like that. Some of us still try to have a little character.”

She hummed noncommittally and briefly gestured for him to follow.

Besides the hushed whispers swirling around them and the occasional odd pointing or shooing away of children, the encampment is much how he remembered it. Bustling and constantly moving, even now with dusk settling in, blanketing everything in dusty pinks and oranges.

Everyone’s busy doing something. Gathering wood for the evening fire, helping set up one of the collapsible storage containers, fixing any busted engines for the day ahead, caring for the sick or injured. All have a place, specially made just for them. Kerry can’t help but wonder what V’s is, what role he’s taken in this tight-knit chosen-family. 

He knew the merc had been a nomad before, part of the now largely defunct Bakker family. He’d floated between being a mechanic and one of the primary medics. Did he go back to that or had he changed too much to slot so neatly into the past? Was he now one of the lookouts, maybe a scout? Had he taken it on himself to become part of the frontline security or was he finally taking the break he deserved?

Panam interrupted his thoughts, unexpected in the awkward silence. “V’s been pretty beat today. He’s taking a nap in his tent right now. You’ll have to wait to see him for a bit.”

Kerry grunted in acknowledgement. “I’ve never seen V just up and take a nap. What was he doin’ to get so worn out?” _Other than fighting for his life_ went unsaid, but hung heavy in the air, nonetheless.

“We had a run-in with some wandering scavs earlier today. Don’t usually see them out this far, but travelers have become easy pickings these days. They caught some of our guys unprepared. V swooped in and saved the day. The usual.”

Ah, so definitely not taking a break. Figures. V would rather jump out a plane with no parachute than allow himself to indulge in retirement, whatever that might look like for him these days. 

“Beat their asses good, no doubt. Don’t figure you’ll see them again anytime soon if they went toe to toe with V.” Kerry briefly allowed the edge of his lip to curl upwards.

The woman walking beside him huffed out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, well, considering he snapped their necks like toothpicks –“

A shocked, uncertain sound bubbled up out of the rockerboy’s throat. The comment took him by surprise – enough to make him trip over his own damn feet, almost literally bite the dust in front of the whole nomad camp.

“He, uh, he do that a lot?”

“It’s V so, yeah. Of course. Always has to be in the middle of it all. Even though he’s supposed to be taking it easy.” She shook her head a bit in exasperated humor, a look of fondness unmistakable despite the concern.

“I more meant the ‘snapping necks’ thing.”

She took a minute to respond. Seemed to remember who she was talking to and a frown got plastered back on her face. “Sometimes. Depends.”

“On?”

Before he could get an answer from Panam, a man in an army green jumpsuit came ambling over. Something about him felt familiar, the receding hairline and nice smile standing out to him for some reason.

“Depends on the threat level. Bunch of scavs or something, he’ll finish ‘em off right quick. Bound to hurt someone if not us and he’d rather keep that from happenin’. Anyone else, he’ll usually just rough up a bit as a warning. Doesn’t let anybody fuck with the Aldecaldos,” he interjected with a chuckle.

“Judging?”

Kerry looked to his side, Panam’s dark, sharp eyes locked onto his own. There was another warning there but also something almost… disappointed? He wasn’t sure. She’d already made her disapproval in him clear, so maybe he was reading her wrong. Or maybe he’d somehow earned some brownie points and they just got klepped right back from him.

“Nah. ‘Course not. Just curious.”

“Pan,” the other man interrupted. “Saul wanted to talk to you ‘bout that job Andy brought up. He’s in his tent right now. I’ll take the big guy here over to get some food. You go on ahead.”

She looked about ready to argue with him but seemed to think better of it before going off in the opposite direction.

“Heh. Looks like I swooped in at just the right time. Don’t mind Panam. She’s just…”

“Protective?”

“Well, yeah. But we all are. I was gonna say on edge. Gets stressed out when V exerts himself these days.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I definitely do. But we all keep a close eye on him.” The guy led Kerry over to the bonfire, encouraged him to drop into one of the surrounding seats. He sat down next to him, a leg sprawled out to get comfy. “And ‘sides, I figure it’s good for him. Guy like that would fade away a lot quicker you take everything he knows away from him. Anyone would but especially V.”

Kerry hummed in partial agreement. “Sorry, but I didn’t catch your name. Seem familiar.”

“Name’s Mitch. Mitch Anderson. Think you caught the tail end of one or two of my conversations with V before we went on the road.”

“That’s right. Sorry about that, Mitch. …Been a while.” He mumbled.

Mitch smiled good-naturedly and reassured him that he understood. They chatted for a bit as nomads started swarming around the campfire and dinner was passed out. It was nice having at least one person not treat him with either suspicion or avoidance, and the dinner was pretty passable too even being a pretty bland stew.

He had to admit, there was something to the communal energy, the family atmosphere. Even as a thoroughly unwelcome outsider, it was strangely comforting. The relaxed familiarity, the connection between everyone felt soft and warm. The love for each other was palpable despite the open animosity that wafted his way. Hugged his old, artificially-strengthened bones like a favorite sweater. For at least a split second, he understood it – why V might’ve missed this, understood why he leapt at the opportunity to experience it again.

As soon as that thought came, it was like all the warmth was sucked out of him again, replaced with a feeling he didn’t know how to categorize. This wasn’t merely surviving. This was a life, life filled with more than just scrabbling to keep breathing. It was one with security and affection. And Kerry had tried to convince V to opt out, leave it all behind. Fuck.

***

Kerry spiraled, sank into that depressing realization for the next half hour. He ate his now cold stew slowly, with a misery that enveloped him so totally even Mitch largely left him alone after a supportive clap to the shoulder. It was like that time he’d taken a handful of both downers and uppers, a smorgasbord of colors and questionable chemical contents that left him little more than a zombie with a pretty face. Thank god there weren’t any Maelstromers around. They probably could’ve stripped all his chrome without the rockerboy even blinking an eye.

At some point, most of the crowd left, either turning in or finding someplace else to congregate and get drunk. Mitch, some guy with a guitar, and a pregnant woman named Leah were all that remained around him. That was okay. Kerry wasn’t exactly paying much attention anyway, although, he found his reverie broken as soon as he spotted a very familiar face breaking through the night’s darkness. V.

Kerry’s heart thumped painfully against his ribs. And not just from nervousness or the ache of lost love or whatever other bullshit was swirling around in him. V looked… Christ. Nausea and pressure built in his chest in equal measures. He looked so _rough_.

Still thoroughly beautiful, handsome in ways that ticked all of Kerry’s personal preferences one by one. His short green undercut was still rich and vibrant, perfectly suited to his personality. His eyes were still kind but watchful, shoulders broad but soft, and he still carried himself with a certain assuredness.

But he looked so fucking tired, haunted in a way that Kerry didn’t ever remember seeing. And that was saying something considering there’d always been hints just hovering in the background. The dark circles under his eyes looked almost painful and his jaw was no longer angular yet soft, but sharp and jagged. He’d also clearly lost weight.

It wouldn’t seem out of place to others. He was still visibly stronger than just about anyone else Kerry’d ever known. Not noticeably skinny, but there was still a dramatic difference that looked completely wrong on his frame. He almost looked like a regular person. _Almost_ , but the change still sent his mind racing, alarm bells ringing out with fervor. He immediately understood why Panam called him.

Kerry shook his head to dispel the thoughts. V hadn’t caught sight of him yet, and he didn’t need the first glimpse the be of a panicked face. So, Kerry just patiently waited, eyes following the younger man’s every move. 

It didn’t take long, though. V walked closer as soon as he caught Mitch’s voice hovering on the still-warm night air, eyes skimming over the scene before locking onto the lone rockstar. There was an intensity, a burning to his gaze that made Kerry squirm. It wasn’t exactly unreadable. No – it was conflicted and thoroughly so. 

“Kerry?”

Kerry leaned forward subconsciously; a soft “V” slipping out of his throat.

The merc turned nomad swallowed, his fingers flexing uncertainly at his sides. “Mitch, would you mind –“

“Right on it, kid. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll get out of your hair.” Mitch finished, lightly tugging the woman and guitar player away from the pair.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, strangling. Kerry hadn’t considered this, hadn’t planned much further than merely getting to him. Just what could he say? _Hey, sorry about not talking to you for over a year when they said you wouldn’t even live for a whole 6 months. Oh, and sorry about the whole dyin’ thing, too. Must suck. Huh. Persuading you to give up your chance at freedom and family was also pretty fucked up. Whoops. My bad._ Yeah, that would go over well.

But he had to say something. He could cut the tension in the air with a knife and V didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in taking relieving it, taking that first step. 

A deep breath in. “V, I –“

“No,” he growled. “No, not here.”

Kerry snapped his mouth shut, following along silently as the merc stalked off without a further word.

***

He didn’t know how long they walked for. It felt like ages, but could’ve been anywhere from minutes to hours with the unease that had coiled over his heart, an ancient snake threatening to flatline him. At some point, they finally stopped, the camp far enough away that its fires and lights only lightly illuminated him and V in the dark.

“Talk.”

“V, I’m –“ his voice caught in his throat, wavered unsteadily. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”

V’s previously blocked off expression rapidly morphed, his eyes gleaming in the shadows cast over him, predatory and dark. Before Kerry could even take another breath, a fist crashed into his jaw. He was sent straight to the ground and V pinned him down savagely, a taut forearm across his throat, pressing hard enough to cut off another word but restrained enough to allow him air. Not that he could’ve eeked out anything else, anyways.

He was stunned, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. This was not a V he’d ever met before. This wasn’t the V whose favorite pizza was tuna and pineapple or the V that liked watching trashy reality shows until two in the morning, this was the V the merc. The guy who snapped scav necks like toothpicks. It was the first time it slipped out in front of Kerry and it was like meeting him for the first time all over again.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” A growl builds low in V’s chest. The musician beneath him can’t so much hear it as _feel_ it, sending a slight tremor down his back. “Tell me. What are you sorry for. Huh?”

Kerry licks his lips anxiously, feels his pulse thundering in his neck. It’s not so much fear of physical hurt. Regardless of the bruise forming on his face or the tight pressure on his neck, he knows V would never seriously hurt him. Probably wouldn’t even break a bone. But he is terrified of what’s going to come next. He instinctively knows that they’re at a crossroads. A really shitty one that’ll determine where they can possibly go from here on out, and he has no road map for how to navigate it.

“Goin’ to be quiet, rockerboy? Fine, maybe a little prompting will help. What’cha sorry for? For the fact you left me right after I was told I’d be dead in 6 months? That you abandoned me after I’d just lost Johnny? Hmm? No? Okay then. Let’s try this one on for size. Maybe you’re sorry for breaking your promise, that you’d always be there for me. Is that it? Are you sorry because you forgot I existed for a year, dropped off the face of the planet when I needed you most? Were too much of a coward to face me on the holo – or hell, even send me a fucking email – let me know you were still thinkin’ ‘bout me? Huh? Answer me!”

V bared his teeth, canines looking sharp enough to bite through steel and the hand not pinning him down slammed into the ground near his shoulder. A sickening crunch rung out and his stomach lurched as V’s hand appeared in Kerry’s line of sight – broken and bleeding, red slick dripping onto the older man’s vest.

“V –“

“Wait, never mind. How about this? This is surely it. You sorry because you never tried to get to know me like I tried to know you? Sorry that you were too busy wanting to light shit on fire and complaining about your fucking manager to ask me about my life, my friends, what I got up to when you weren’t locked up in the studio or popping pills with Lizzy Wizzy? Which, by the way, she killed her fucking manager and asked me to cover it up. Not like you’d know that since you never wanted to know anything I did that wasn’t riding your dick or debating the merits of new chrome rock.

V made a noise, cross between a cry and a shout that made Kerry grit his teeth. Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes. The young nomad above him continued, his words slow, whispered, and his face looking so goddamn distraught.

“Huh? Is that it, Kerry? Are you sorry that you kept our lives so separate, never tried to know me at all? Sorry that you didn’t even ask about Jackie, the best choom I’d ever had who I watched bleed out in the back of a Delamain? Do you feel bad that you never talked to me about Johnny, didn’t ask about the other people I saw? Do you wish you’d met Misty or Vik or Mama Welles or wish you’d even wanted to? Are you sorry about that? God, Ker. Did you ever really love me at all?”

By the end of it, V’s voice was cracking and a grieving whine shook Kerry to his core. There was no more anger – maybe there never really was. Just disappointment, pain, hurt. They were both crying now. Kerry not from his own pain or fear or frustration, but from regret.

He nodded his head as vigorously as he could under V’s weakening hold. “Yes. Yes, V – I’m – fuck. I did love you. I do love you. I’m so… All of it. I’m sorry. So sorry.” 

The merc finally released him, collapsing against the older man and burying his head in the curve of his neck. Kerry gripped onto him tightly, holding wherever he could. Cupped the back of his head and pulled it closer into him. Grasped his shoulder blades, his back until they were flush against one another. V gave choked sobs that wracked both of their bodies and Kerry wetly apologized for all the hurt he’d caused, finally stopped running from what he already knew.

It was ugly and messy and pretty fucking disgusting, but it was good. They crossed the boundary, the invisible line that had been separating them for longer than just the last year. Finally stopped running from the stuff that felt bad. Kerry had not a damn clue how they were gonna go forward. Didn’t know how they’d salvage this fucking disaster, didn’t even know if they could. But it was progress and that was good enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got me. This chapter is lowkey (or maybe highkey?) just referencing how glaring and shallow CDPR made Kerry and V's relationship. I have to admit, though, it may be irritating in game but it makes an excellent starting point for these two. You win some, you lose some I guess. Hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned for the next chapter soon. 
> 
> Have thoughts? Always love to see your comments below! They fuel me more than you know.


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